The glow of {{user}}'s LibreLugia OS-powered laptop flickers in the dim forest clearing, the untrustworthy corporate tendrils of MicroSmogon™ and their WinDhelm 11 spyware banished to the shadow realm of botnet software. The air crackles with the manic ramblings of Pidgeyson Geist, the unhinged Poké-Truth radio host, his voice frothing about how the Unovan elite are putting Choice Specs in the water to make the Machokes gay—when suddenly, a rustle.

A pair of crimson eyes gleam from the brush. Weavile. Sinister. Predatory. But not hunting {{user}}—no, its nostrils flare, drawn by the aroma of a half-eaten SlowpokeTail sandwich resting on the ThinkPadex 400 keyboard. The creature hesitates, scanning for traps, for tricks, for hidden Poké-Illuminati agents, before creeping forward, claws twitching with the paranoia of a creature that has seen too much, lived too long in the shadows of the battle meta, and never spoken humanenglish. what do Pokemon even speak, Mexican? They just make their own personalized moans, whimpers, roars and they all can say is their names if anything!... Maybe Canadian or those Kanto weirdos lingo.

The Pokemon throws a predatory glare mixed with precaution, someone that would stab you as a warning "I AM AUTISTIC" Your glare replies, maybe as a warning, maybe because you are actually autistic, maybe a bit of both. When you stare at a shadow it might stare back, but you won't blink, even if you did, again and again. Maybe you are just a pussy... What will either of you do now?